


False Alarm

by FestiveFerret



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Aquariums, Awkward Dates, Awkwardness, Awkwardness with a happy ending, Bucky is the best bro, Dum Dum the Fish, First Date, Flirting, Insecure Steve Rogers, Like Super Insecure, M/M, Meet-Cute, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, fire alarm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 06:11:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16423919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret
Summary: It took four steps down the hall for his brain to really kick in and wake up. Steve was never at his best first thing in the morning, and when first thing in the morning was actually the middle of the night and the building wouldn't stop yelling at him, it was even worse. But adrenaline performed its role admirably, albeit about four steps too late, because he realized two things at the same time.One, was that he'd left his keys inside, hanging on the hook by the door, and the doors in this building locked automatically.Two, was that he'd slept in his boxers, nothing else, and he hadn't thought to pull any clothes on over.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [vulcan_slash_robot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcan_slash_robot/gifts).



> For atoria, who voted for this one to be continued, back when Yet I Will Try won the vote. I don't know if this is where you saw this going, but it's what happened. You're a treasure! Thanks for all the support and winning all those lay's contests :P <333
> 
> Thanks to ashy for beta, muah!
> 
> This was originally just one chapter and was posted on [my tumblr](http://festiveferret.tumblr.com/) for Stony bingo. Now it has two chapters and a grown-up spot here!

Steve startled up out of bed and onto the floor with a yelp. His room was  _ screaming  _ at him. He clapped his hands over his ears and stumbled to his feet. 

_ Fuck,  _ it was the fire alarm. The building was on fire and shit what even time was it? He staggered out of his room, still half asleep, while the noise blared on. It was deafeningly loud, and he kept his hands locked over his ears. The couch was empty, so Buck must not have slept over last night. Dum Dum burbled in his fishbowl on the kitchen counter, and Steve snatched it up as he walked by. The building was on fire, and he was not going to leave his fish to be boiled alive. He shoved his feet into his running shoes and stumbled out the door. It swung closed behind him.

It took four steps down the hall for his brain to really kick in and wake up. Steve was never at his best first thing in the morning, and when first thing in the morning was actually the middle of the night and the building wouldn't stop yelling at him, it was even worse. But adrenaline performed its role admirably, albeit about four steps too late, because he realized two things at the same time.

One, was that he'd left his keys inside, hanging on the hook by the door, and the doors in this building locked automatically.

Two, was that he slept in his boxers, nothing else, and he hadn't thought to pull any clothes on over.

So, he was standing in the middle of his hallway, the fire alarm blaring, holding a fish bowl, in nothing but his shoes and boxers, and his door had just locked behind him. Also, it was Sunday night and he had a presentation at work in about six hours. So, all in all, a pretty good night.

Face igniting with humiliation, Steve shuffled down the stairs and out the side door. Normally, if he'd locked himself out without any clothes on, he'd just hide in the hall until Bucky could come let him in, but the potential for being burnt alive overrode any shame, and he made his way down the side path to where a group of his fellow building-dwellers were gathered. His face flushed even deeper when he realized that, despite the time, everyone else was fully dressed or at least wearing a robe. 

Steve clutched Dum Dum's bowl over his chest, and tried to disappear. It wasn't hard, he was small and unimportant enough that he got overlooked a lot, and this time, at least, it would work in his favour.

"Hey," said a voice with laughter rolling through it. 

Or maybe not. 

Steve looked up to see a guy about his age standing next to him. He had wild brown hair and a carefully trimmed goatee, and was completely dressed, in jeans, a button-down shirt and a zip-up sweater. He had his hands shoved in his pockets, and he was grinning. 

He was stupid gorgeous, and Steve hated him a little bit right off the bat.

"Hey," he grumbled back.

"Are you new here? I've never seen you around."

Steve sighed. "Yup."

"Did the alarm scare you?" He was definitely laughing now.

"Yup."

The guy snorted. "Yeah, this happens like twice a month. You'll get used to it. There's no fire, don't worry. The alarms are just twitchy or something."

Steve squeezed his eyes shut and wished the ground would swallow him whole. "Good to know," he grit out through clenched teeth. The wind picked up, and he shivered, holding Dum Dum closer even though the cool glass of his bowl was leaching Steve's small amount of body heat away. Something brushed his arm and Steve looked up to see that the guy had taken off his sweater and was holding it out towards Steve.

"You look cold," he said softly, not laughing anymore.

"I'm fi-"

"Don't you dare say you're fine. Come on, put it on."

Steve flicked his eyes around as if something nearby could save him from the awkwardness, but when nothing did, he sighed, set Dum Dum down, then grabbed the sweater. It was thick and heavy and warm from the other man's body heat, and Steve felt better even before he had his arms through the too-long sleeves. 

The man grinned at him, taking in the sight of Steve drowning in his sweater. "Thanks."

"No problem." He shoved his hands back in his pockets. "I'm Tony, by the way."

"Steve."

"Welcome to Building C, Steve."

"I appreciate the welcome, but you really didn't have to throw the party," Steve said, gesturing at the gathered people, and Tony laughed, delighted. 

He bent down and peered into Dum Dum's bowl. "Is that your fish?"

"No, I saved someone else's fish."

"What's his name?"

"Dum Dum."

Tony startled up, staring at Steve. He opened and closed his mouth a few times then grinned broadly. "Ha! I have a - uh - pet, called Dummy," he said. "Maybe they're related."

Steve couldn't help but smile back. There was something so honestly delighted about Tony that even though he knew the other man was making fun of him, he didn't really mind. It certainly didn't help that Tony was painfully good looking and kept smiling at him. Plus, Steve could smell his cologne on the sweater, feel his body heat, and it was a bit distracting.  _ Don't get a boner in another man's sweater,  _ Steve told himself firmly.

Tony waved at Dum Dum then stood again. He shuffled a little closer. "Are you, uh, cold?"

Steve waved one of his sleeve-covered hands. "Better now, thanks." Tony beamed. "Sorry…" Steve said, not sure why he was apologizing. "I don't really wake up until after my third cup of coffee, so I didn't think to get dressed."

Tony laughed. "Ah, I'm the same way, it's fine."

Steve eyed him up. "You seem remarkably awake, though.'

"Oh, I haven't been to bed yet." Tony waved a hand as if that was nothing. "It's only like, what? Four AM?" Tony pulled his phone out and looked down at it. "Four-oh-eight. Pshh."

The phone reminded Steve that he didn't have his own and his keys were locked inside. If there really was no fire, they were going to let them back in any minute now, and Steve would have nowhere to go. There was no landlord on site. "Could I borrow that? I just need to send a quick text."

"Sure. You can have anything of mine you want." Tony winked.

Steve narrowed his eyes back. This guy was… confusing. And he kept hanging around Steve instead of wandering off. "Thanks." The guy put the phone in Steve's hands, and he sent off a quick text to Bucky.

_ Fire alarm went off. Locked myself out with DD. No pants. Please bring keys over. Had to borrow this phone. -Steve _

"Thanks." 

Tony took the phone back and rolled it between his palms. He still hadn't moved away. "So… where you from?"

Steve shuffled on the grass. The dew had started soaking through his shoes to his feet. "... Brooklyn." He wanted to tack,  _ why do you care?  _ on the end, but Tony was looking at him so earnestly, he tried to suppress the uncaffeinated urge to be rude. But if Tony was only talking to him because he felt obligated to be nice to the sad, new guy, there really was no need.

"Nice. I grew up in Manhattan."

"Oh." Steve tensed, completely at a loss for what to say next. 

"You and Dum Dum live alone?" Tony asked.

Steve clung to the opportunity to have more to say. "Yeah, but my best friend works nearby and he stays over all the time." Something very subtle shifted in Tony's expression, and Steve felt the need to add, "I'd charge him for it, but I don't think the couch is rent-worthy," with a smile.

Tony smiled back. He shuffled a little closer, and Steve wondered if he was cold without his sweater. He knew he should offer it back, but his legs were cold now, and Tony's sweater was the only thing standing between him and frostbite, even though it was well above freezing. Steve's body didn't handle cold well.

"So what'd you come here for? Chasing a girl?" Tony's eyes twinkled. 

Steve felt his cheeks flush. "Um. You really want to know?"

"Yeah."

"A boy, actually." Steve sighed.

"Did you catch him?" Tony's body language shifted again, but Steve couldn't quite read it. He was tense, on edge.

"He caught someone else," Steve grumbled. "All for the best, really. He turned out to be… not very nice."

"Sorry."

"It worked out alright. I like it here. That was a year ago, and when my lease was up, I got this place - much nicer than my last. I convinced Bucky to come down too, about six months ago, when he lost his job back home."

Tony smiled. "So, you're sticking around."

"Yeah, that's the plan."

They were quiet for a moment then Tony mumbled, "His loss," under his breath.

"What?"

"The guy who caught someone else. His loss."

Steve wrinkled his nose. "Hardly." He wrapped his arms around his chest, folding the ends of the sleeves over his chilled fingers. "No one's really missing out on this." He dropped the words down at his feet, perhaps a little more harshly than was really appropriate when talking to a man he'd just met, but he couldn't stop the rush of self-consciousness when he looked down and saw his bare, bony legs sticking out of Tony's oversized hoodie.

"Actually, I think you're pretty cute, an-"

_ "Steven Grant Rogers!" _

Steve tensed and spun on his heel as Bucky marched across the lawn. "Buck, what are you yelling about?"

Bucky grabbed him by the shoulders and turned him back and forth, eyes raking over him. "You texted me that there was a fire! And then stopped responding! For fucks sake, Stevie."

"Oh, shit, sorry. I used Tony's phone and then I gave it back. I guess -" He turned around, gesturing to where Tony had been mere moments ago, but he was gone. Steve did a full spin, eyes scanning the crowd. Tony had disappeared. "Shit."

"What?"

"I met this guy…."

Bucky punched him in the arm. "You dog!"

"Not like that!" Steve punched him back. But, actually, maybe it was a little like that. Hadn't Tony said he was cute? But then he vanished. "He leant me his phone and his sweater. He was just being nice."

"I bet he was."

Steve glared, and Bucky picked up Dum Dum's bowl to coo at him. "Heya, Pal. Have a rough day? Or maybe it's exciting for you to get to go on an adventure. Do you think we should take him for walks?"

"Stop harassing my fish," Steve said absently, still spinning around, eyes darting from person to person. At the very least, he needed to find Tony to give him his sweater back. 

"Our fish," Bucky corrected.

"Fuck off."

The crowd suddenly set off, back towards the building, and Steve realized they were being let back in again, but he still hadn't spotted Tony. 

"Do you see him?" he asked Bucky. "He's got dark hair and a goatee." But Bucky was already setting off for the door, Dum Dum in his arms.

They made it all the way back to the apartment without spotting Tony again, to Steve's disappointment. He'd kind of felt like maybe there'd been a little something there. It was still hard to believe Tony was interested… but he'd called him cute, hadn't he? Maybe if Steve had asked which apartment he lived in, he could have arranged to bump into him now and then.  

Bucky used his keys to let them in, then set Dum Dum on the table and dropped a fish pellet in his bowl "for emotional support." Then he kicked off his shoes and stretched out on the couch. Steve sighed at the door, wondering if he should just call the night a bust and stay up or catch a few hours before work. 

He plucked at Tony's sweater absentmindedly while he considered his options. It was still warm and smelled so good. He tugged the collar up over his nose and breathed it in. A thousand fantasies danced before his eyes. Wearing his boyfriend's sweater while they curled up on the couch together, holding hands while they went on dates, cooking dinner for each other...

It was silly, though. He barely knew the guy, and Tony was only being nice. Steve would get some sleep, go to work tomorrow, and in the afternoon he'd find out if Mrs. Baxter knew which unit was Tony's so he could wash the sweater and leave it outside his door. Then he wouldn't have to look in his soft eyes again and resist the urge to say something stupid.

Steve turned towards his bedroom when there was a knock on the door. He pulled a one-eighty on his heel and trotted back across to it, wondering if the firefighters were checking on everyone, but when he pulled it open, it was Tony standing there. He had one hand braced against the doorframe, and he grinned when Steve came into view. 

"Hey," Tony said.

Steve's mouth dropped open. "How do you know where I live?"

Tony held up his phone. "I have your friend's number."

Steve looked over at the couch where Bucky was sprawled. His hand appeared, shooting Steve a thumbs-up. Of course… Steve could have just asked Bucky for Tony's number and texted him himself to find out where he lived. To return the sweater, of course. Instead, he'd made Tony drag himself all the way up here. 

Steve fiddled with the sleeves of the sweater then moved to take it off. He was loathe to part with it; it was so warm. "Came for your sweater?" he said, by way of conversation.

Tony blinked at it like he'd forgotten he owned it. "Oh. No." Steve stilled. "You can keep it."

"What?"

"It looks better on you, actually."

Steve hung there awkwardly, the hem of the sweater still clutched in his hands. "What did you come for, then?"

Tony grinned then winked.  _ "Your  _ number."


	2. Chapter 2

_ "Steven Grant Rogers, _ if you open that closet one more time, I'm going to kill you!" Bucky hollered from the kitchen.

Steve paused with his hand on the closet doorknob. He looked down at his pants. They were  _ wrong.  _ He startled up when Bucky's face appeared around the doorframe, and he snatched his hand back. Too late. Bucky frowned.

"Your shirt is fine, dude."

Steve squirmed. He tugged at his waistband. "But the pants -"

"Also fine."

"I don't know where we're going. What if it's fancy? Or super casual?"

"That's why we're toeing the line, bud." Bucky held out his hands like he was framing pictures at one of his shoots. "You'll fit in either way."

Steve made a vague, grumpy noise and grabbed his phone off the dresser to check Tony's text for the seven hundredth time. 

_ >> Pick you up at seven. _

He scrolled back up through their message history, double checking that it really was today and that Tony really hadn't said where they were going.

"I should have asked where we were going. Then I'd know what to wear." Steve walked in a tense circle in the middle of the room until Bucky grabbed his shoulders and directed him out to the living room where he paced around the couch instead. "Well, actually, I should have said no when he asked me out."

"What? Come on man." Bucky opened the cupboard and took out bread and peanut butter. "You really like him. You deserve a nice night out."

"Me really liking him is the problem. And I guarantee this is not going to be a nice night out. I've probably sweated through my shirt already." Steve plucked at the front of it, still deeply offended by his choice in pants.

Bucky pinned him with a firm glare, not needing to say anything as his thoughts were loudly telegraphed.

A firm knock broke through the silence, and Steve's breath caught. He slapped a hand to his chest. "I'm going to have an asthma attack."

"You're not going to have an asthma attack, you nut. Get out there." Bucky shoved him towards the door then hopped over the back of the couch to land sprawled on the cushions. "Text me if you need me to be elsewhere when you come back." His face appeared again, and he winked.

Steve shot him a withering glare. "If I text you and say that, you're even more likely to be here, you creep."

"Well, what if he needs a shovel talk or something?"

Steve rolled his eyes. "I really don't think that's going to be an issue." He smoothed his shirt, glared at his very wrong pants and wrenched the door open.

Tony had his hand up like he was going to knock again. "Oh! Hey, Steve." He looked at his own hand then lowered it. "I thought maybe you hadn't heard me knock over all the, uh, yelling."

Steve slipped out the door and closed it tightly behind him, tapping his pocket to make sure he had his keys this time. "Sorry. Bucky's in there."

Tony smiled. "Helping you get ready?"

"More like the opposite." They started to walk towards the stairs.

"Seems like he's there a lot," Tony said.

Steve shrugged. "Well, we're used to being around each other. Plus Dum Dum gets lonely."

Tony stared at him for a moment then snorted when Steve smirked back. "Fish sitting. That's a pretty good excuse for eating your food and hogging your Netflix."

"Bucky would agree with you. He claims it's a joint fish because I got him when we were still living together."

They hit the doors, and Tony started to walk across the lawn towards the parking lot, fiddling with his keys. Steve took the opportunity to check him out while he was distracted. 

Tony was wearing dark jeans that hugged his hips just tightly enough to show off his strong, lean lines, without being the kind that made Steve wonder if they needed lard to be put on. His light blue button-down shirt was pulled loose of his waistband, and its lines traced the way his chest tapered down to his waist. When he turned towards a row of cars, Steve could see his shoulder muscles stand out and his mouth watered. He resisted the urge to pluck at his own pants again.

It made little to no sense that someone like Tony would want to go out with someone like Steve. Steve had spent all week trying to figure it out. Tony could have anyone, Tony could have someone more like Bucky - strong, tall, hot. Steve couldn't help wondering if he'd been a disappointment when Tony opened the door, if in the dark and excitement of the fire alarm, Tony had seen something else. Steve in the harsh light of day - or in the harsh light of parking lot overheads, at least - was a little less appealing.

"You okay?"

Steve looked up and realized that Tony was watching him, brow creased. The were standing next to a dark, red two-door. "Oh. Yeah. Sorry."

As soon as they slipped into the car, Steve felt awkwardness fill the air, as if it was being piped in through the a/c vents. He kept trying to think of things to say, but nothing would come. He could ask Tony about his job - though he didn't even know if Tony had a job or was in school. There was something academic about him. 

Steve didn't know anything about Tony, really.

They'd talked for ten minutes during the fire alarm, mostly about Steve and his stupid fish bowl and his stupid Bucky, and then exchanged a few texts after. And now they were - perfect strangers - sitting in a car together. And Steve didn't even know how long the drive was going to be.

He decided to play it safe. "So, um. Where are you from? You know, originally."

"LA," Tony said. "Well, I guess that's not true. I was born in New York, but we moved out to Malibu when I was ten. So it feels like home. But then when I'm in the city, it feels like home too, you know?"

"Oh, yeah, I get that. Do your parents not mind that you moved to the other side of the country?"

Tony coughed. "They passed away a few years ago, so… yeah. It's part of why I moved out here."

Steve felt his cheeks start to heat. He'd put his foot in it already. "Oh. Sorry."

Tony half-shrugged. "Whatever."

Suddenly every possible topic felt fraught. What if he asked him about his job and he didn't have one? Or about school and he was offended that Steve would think he was still in school? 

He spent so long fretting about what to say next that when he finally settled on asking Tony what he liked to do for fun, they were already pulling up in front of the -

Oh. Shit.

The aquarium.

Steve's heart picked up into double time and the question he had lined up fell out of his head. "The aquarium," he said stupidly.

Tony was already halfway out of the car, and Steve scrambled to follow. There must have been something in his voice, because Tony paused, concern crinkling his eyebrow. "Yeah… is that okay? Only, you seem to like fish, or at least you have one that you thought to rescue during a fake fire, and I thought it'd be nicer than a movie or something, cause, um, we can still talk…" Tony seemed to remember that they hadn't managed much of that so far. "You hate it?"

"No!" Steve took three rushed steps towards the front door. "It's great. Good." Steve failed to mention that he had a season's pass to the aquarium and went here most weekends. He failed to mention that he knew almost everything about every fish in the place, even the nicknames the staff had given them. He failed to mention the fourteen sketchbooks full of fish he had back at his apartment. And he failed to mention that this was the worst possible location for a first date because he wouldn't be able to open his mouth without seven hundred freshwater facts cascading out. "Good."

"Okay…" Tony walked close beside him, Steve's shoulder bumping against his arm. He smelled incredibly good, and Steve wanted to crawl into the heat he was radiating. 

Steve let Tony pay for two passes because it was far too mortifying to get his own pass out, and they trundled through the gates into the first room. A huge glass tube filled one side of the room, an endless school of mellow-looking herring swimming around and around. Tony leaned in to look. "I like this one, it's peaceful." 

_ When baby herrings hatch, they're almost transparent,  _ Steve didn't say. "Um. Me too," he did say, painfully awkwardly. 

"Do you want to go towards the stingrays or the jellyfish first?" Tony asked, pointing, and Steve shrugged. He could see the tightness building in Tony's shoulders, he could see the discomfort, and he knew it was his fault for being awkward, for being stressed and anxious and no fun at all, but the more he worried about it, the worse he got until his tongue was entirely in knots and he couldn't even feign enthusiasm for the stingray tank, which was usually one of his favourites. 

Tony gave up trying to engage him after a while, and it was both a relief and a heartbreak. At least he'd tried. In fact, he'd lasted longer than Steve had expected. 

After a painful hour and a half, Steve fiddled with a stuffed swordfish while Tony wandered around the gift shop. He pulled his phone out, wondering if Bucky had texted him some chill, but he had two messages from work and a coupon for half off jeans, and no chill. He thought about texting Bucky and begging for help, but then Buck would know it was his fault this hadn't gone well and he wouldn't be able to play it off as a mutually disastrous date tomorrow morning at the inevitable grilling.

"Hungry?" Tony asked, suddenly at his side. Steve looked up, startled, and shoved his phone back in his pocket. He set the stuffed toy down - somewhat reluctantly, it was really cute. Tony's lips were pinching in at the edges, and Steve got the distinct impression he was hoping Steve would say no.

But Steve said, "Sure," because it was the polite thing to say and followed him back out to the lobby. He wasn't actually hungry, in fact, his stomach was churning unpleasantly and food held no appeal at all, but he'd told Bucky, and himself, that he'd give this dating thing a solid try, and if he showed up at home after only two hours, Bucky would confiscate Dum Dum again, telling Steve he was being a bad role model. 

He wouldn't if Tony were actually being a bad date, of course, but the problem was, he wasn't. Tony was kind and funny, and trying - god - trying so hard. And Steve was being awful. But he couldn't seem to stop being awful, and it was pure agony, for both of them, he was sure.

Tony got them a booth, and Steve stared blankly at the menu, picking at the metal corner with one fingernail. Nothing looked appealing; everything looked like it would want to come back up the second he started eating it. 

When the waitress came back to take their orders, Steve couldn't help but look towards the door longingly. He just wanted this night to be over. He'd failed miserably, and he needed to crawl into bed - embarrassingly, almost certainly while wearing Tony's fire alarm sweater - and try and forget this stupid date ever happened.

"And for you?"

Steve startled. He picked the first thing he saw. "Um… a burger, please. No onion, no mustard. Fries on the side. Thanks."

"So, I guess you're not a vegetarian," Tony said.

"Nope. Are you?" Steve realized a moment too late that Tony had ordered chicken, and he flinched. "Right. Of course you're not."

"Uh, no, I'm not. I try to eat healthily, though. A lot of smoothies…" Tony trailed off when Steve said nothing, but he couldn't think of anything to say.

"I have a lot of allergies," spilled out eventually. Right. Remind the guy you want to date that you're basically a ticking time bomb of pre-epi-pen disaster. 

Tony looked sympathetic. "Man, that sucks. My best friend is allergic to shellfish. I know how shitty that can be."

"Uh, yeah. It sucks."

"Oh. I got something for you," Tony said flatly. He reached in his pocket then pulled out a miniature version of the stuffed swordfish Steve had been admiring at the store. "You seemed to like it."

Steve stared at the toy, his heart pounding heavily enough to be painful in his chest. God, he was so bad at this. Tony was sweet and kind and had noticed him looking at something so he bought it for him, and Steve was being  _ an absolute disaster.  _ "Wow," he rasped. "Thank you." He set the swordfish carefully in his lap to stop himself from clutching it to his chest, and Tony dropped his eyes back to the table with a barely disguised sigh.

They sat in awkward silence for a while longer then, thankfully, the waitress reappeared with their food. Tony started in on his chicken right away, probably grateful for something to do that wasn't trying to talk to the brick wall that was Steve, but all Steve could do was pick half-heartedly at his fries. His stomach churned. Steve's eyes flicked to the door again, and Tony sighed, setting down his fork.

"Look… you don't have to fake a phone call or do a bathroom-window bailout. I can take you home if you're not having fun."

Steve opened his mouth, but nothing came out except a nervous, "Um."

Tony's face twitched through a series of unhappy expressions and he turned away from the table to signal the waitress back over to them. "Sorry, but we have to go suddenly. Can we get this packed up?"

Steve's heart sunk. He'd fucked this up so badly. He wanted to say,  _ can we try again?  _ or  _ no, let's just start over, I can do this,  _ but he couldn't work past the anxious lump in his throat to actually form words. 

On the car ride back to their complex, Steve stared at the styrofoam containers on his lap and wished he could think of something cool to say, something nice to say. Anything at all to say.

Tony was silent in the driver's seat, but he was radiating discomfort and disappointment, and Steve soaked it up like a sponge. Everything he could think of, he could also think of a way to twist it around and make it sound bad. He resisted the urge to slam his forehead against the car window and groan.

Tony walked him all the way back up to his apartment, hovering a polite distance away. It was obvious that he was trying to keep a smile pasted on, but every now and then it slipped, and Steve could see the disappointment. It made it so much worse.

At his door, Steve fumbled, trying to get his key in the lock. He just wanted this over with so he could crawl back in bed and pretend it'd never happened. 

"Hey, Steve?"

He stopped trying to open the door and turned to Tony. "Yes?"

"Can you, um - I mean it's fine, you know. If you're not really into me. But if I did something wrong, can you just tell me what it was?" He chuckled uncomfortably. "Like one of those user satisfaction surveys. 'Rate your experience on a date with Tony Stark. One to five stars.' I at least get a half-point for creativity on the fish thing, right?"

Steve's heart plummeted into his stomach. "Oh, no, Tony… It's not you, honestly." Tony didn't look convinced. "You're great. Like… too great."

Tony cleared his throat. "Right… okay. Well, goodnight, Steve."

"No, wait!" Steve reached out and caught Tony's arm. "I mean it."

"It's okay," Tony said, not pulling out of Steve's grip, but leaning away from him nonetheless. "You don't have to try and make me feel better. I honestly wanted the constructive criticism, but it's cool, no need to leave a review if you don't want to. I'll see you around."

Steve suddenly didn't want him to leave, but he didn't know what to say to make him stay. "Wait. Let me get your sweater for you." He hadn't had a chance to wash it, and he'd worn it to bed every night since the fire alarm, but he couldn't think of anything else.

Tony's expression shuttered closed. "Sure. I said you could keep it, but yeah, okay. Sure."

Steve hovered in uncertainty then wrestled his key in the lock and darted inside. Bucky was asleep on the couch with the TV on loud enough that Mrs. Baxter upstairs would definitely be giving Steve a firm glare next time she saw him, but Dum Dum made up for his lack of attention by giving Steve a judgey look from his bowl. "Shut up," Steve muttered. He dug the sweater out from under his pillow and shook it out, then folded it over his arm. 

He half-expected Tony to be gone, but he was still there, leaning against the stair railing and grimacing at his phone. 

"It really wasn't you," Steve managed to say, using the momentum of tumbling out of the door to push the words out. Tony's eyes snapped up. Steve clutched the sleeve of the sweater in his hand. "I'm not used to that kind of attention. No one ever asked me out in college. Bucky tried to set me up a few times, but I could always tell, when I was the one who showed up for the doubles, that they were disappointed. I got kind of sick of that look." Steve swallowed heavily. "You were great - fantastic, really - but I think maybe I'm just not date material. I'm sorry. I feel really bad about ruining your night. The aquarium was a really good idea. I love fish." He held up the tiny swordfish he was still clutching in one hand. "I love this. It's one of the nicest things anyone's ever done for me, and you barely know me."

Tony softened. He twisted his fingers around the railing. "I really do like you, Steve. I'm not disappointed when it's you."

Butterflies burst to life in Steve's stomach. "Thanks. I really like you, too."

A slow, somewhat disbelieving smile spread across Tony's face. "You know, it really didn't seem like it most of the time."

"I know. I'm sorry," Steve mumbled. "I'm kind of a trainwreck."

"You don't have to be so hard on yourself," Tony said softly. "It wasn't a joke or a dare or pity or anything. I asked you out because I wanted to. I texted your glowery maniac of a friend just to get your apartment number. I really wanted you to say yes."

The butterflies started throwing a rave, complete with pounding bass and a violent mosh pit. Steve rubbed his stomach with one hand, willing the anxious nausea down. "Thank you. Really, that means a lot to me."

Tony was quiet for a moment but he didn't reach for the sweater and he didn't turn to go. "How's Dum-Dum?" he finally asked. "The fire alarm wasn't too traumatizing for him?"

"Oh no, he's adventurous." Steve leaned back against the door. "He's probably going to be all jealous when he smells the other fish on me, though." Tony snorted with laughter and a flush like pride washed over Steve. "You said you had a pet, too? Called Dummy? What's he going to think?"

Tony laughed again, quiet and fond this time. "Yeah… Dummy's not exactly a pet. He's more of a… robot?"

Steve's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Yeah. That's what I do. I build robots."

"That's so cool. What things do they do?"

It took Tony so long to explain what they did that by the end of it, Steve had slipped into Tony's sweater and slid down the door until he was sitting on the ground. Tony came to sit beside him so he could show him blueprints on his phone. Steve's stomach rumbled, and he popped open the takeout container on the top of the stack and plucked out a french fry. The butterflies seemed to have calmed for a moment and left hunger in their wake.

Tony watched him chew. "Sorry. I got a bit carried away."

"No! Don't be sorry. That's - that's  _ fascinating.  _ The learning algorithm stuff... that's so cool. So many possibilities."

Tony brightened considerably. "Yeah, I have all these plans for ways they could be used. But, of course, instead of doing those things, I'm working on my PhD." He shrugged. 

"It's part of the process. Then you can use academic grants to do your research, right?"

"That's the idea." Tony opened his food container too and shoved a piece of his salad in his mouth. "You said you were a graphic designer?"

Steve shrugged. "Well, sort of. I'm in marketing, but design is what I'm trained for. I - uh - I draw too. You were right about the fish. I love them. I go sometimes and draw them."

Tony's eyes brightened. "That's so cool. I'm always jealous of people who can draw. I don't make time for anything like that. Do you have any pictures of your art?" He nodded towards Steve's phone then picked up a piece of his chicken and chewed on it.

Steve flipped through the gallery on his phone, stopping at a shot of a dog in the park that made Tony coo and one of Bucky flipping him off that made Tony laugh, before stopping at a shot of one of his sketches - the octopus curled around one of the logs in its enclosure.

"Wow. That's incredible. The octopus is my favourite. You're really good."

They worked their way through the rest of the pictures on Steve's phone, Tony sitting close enough that their shoulders touched, and then worked their way through their respective dinners, finding that arguing about baseball was a surefire, never-ending conversation because Tony was a Red Sox fan and that was  _ wrong.  _

When Steve's throat started to ache from talking, the beginnings of a headache creeping in, he looked down at the time on his phone. "Oh, shit! It's after midnight. I'm sorry. I kept you here talking out in the hallway for like three hours. Do you want to come in?" He pushed to his feet, and Tony rose too, but he didn't move towards the door.

"I'd better go to bed, actually." He leaned into Steve's space. "But just so it's absolutely clear. I'm leaving because I'm honestly tired and I have to get up early tomorrow. But I really, really like you. I had a great time tonight, at least on take two -" he gestured at the hallway "- and I'd like to go out with you again. Maybe now that we know each other a bit, it'll go better?"

"Yeah.." Steve breathed, feeling a little hypnotized by the way Tony leaned over him. He twisted his hands in the sleeves of Tony's hoodie. "I'd really like that, too." If they could do this again? Just sit and talk? Steve thought it would be okay. Maybe he could invite Tony over and they could order takeout and watch a movie, look through Steve's sketchbook. Maybe he could meet Tony's robots.

"Okay…" Tony didn't move away. Their eyes stayed locked.

"Um." Steve cleared his throat and licked his dry lips. "If you'd like to, you can kiss me. I mean, I'd be into that. If you want."

"Oh good," Tony breathed, "because I'm not entirely sure I can leave without…" He bent down, and their lips met.

The kiss was soft at first, not fleeting, but restrained. Then Steve parted his lips to gasp in a breath and Tony pushed deeper, his tongue darting out to flick against Steve's. A shudder rippled down Steve's spine and it brought enough of his blood flow with it that Steve felt instantly lightheaded. He grabbed Tony's shoulders to stop himself from tipping over, and Tony hooked his waist and pressed him gently against the wall.

Tony was a  _ fantastic  _ kisser, not that Steve had much to compare it to. He was warm and soft and tasted wonderful, and he alternated pressure, driving the kiss deeper then backing off to taste the edge of Steve's bottom lip. His arms were firm and warm and solid, and if Steve thought wearing the hoodie felt good, well, it was nothing to the way Tony's hold felt.

Tony pulled back with a gasp, seemingly unable to move more than a few scant inches away. "So, um, I'm starting to really regret saying no to coming in."

Steve grinned, kissed him again, then took a careful step back. "Bucky's in there anyway," he said with a shrug. "Probably waiting to hear all about it."

Tony smirked, the full force of his flirting turned on Steve, and Steve's breath caught. "If you invite me in…" Tony murmured, "he's going to hear a heck of a lot."

Steve chuckled. He reached out and wrapped his fingers around Tony's wrist. He gave it a squeeze. "Let's save you coming in for next time."

Tony's smirk broke into a brilliant grin. "Friday?"

"Perfect."

"I'll text you."

"Okay."

Neither of them moved.

Steve's fingers twitched around Tony's wrist and the too-long sleeve of the sweater fell over his hand. "Are you sure you don't want this back?" He lifted his arm. "It's a good sweater. I'm sure you're missing it."

"Nah." Tony stole another quick kiss, making Steve laugh. "It really does look better on you."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Podfic] False Alarm](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18457661) by [Atoria_Reads (vulcan_slash_robot)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/vulcan_slash_robot/pseuds/Atoria_Reads), [FestiveFerret](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestiveFerret/pseuds/FestiveFerret)




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